


Ousted from Time

by ZetaSol



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-17 20:49:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20627327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZetaSol/pseuds/ZetaSol
Summary: I’m wondering if she should be the Outlander or not. Once I reach an answer I’ll start writing again. This will include Ziost though, definitely, whether or not I include KOTFE/KOTET. She’ll also definitely be a Gray sith—inspired by Revan of course.





	1. Chapter 1

**Ousted Through Time**

Power. It all began with power. But it was the rise to power that she remembered vividly. The ghosts of this past haunted her as they always did. Still, she could hear their quiet but outraged voices, resounding like whispers clawing at the back of her head. It was just enough for her to always know that they were there: hundreds of them, constantly raving like lunatics; the powerful Force ghosts of sith lords, ancients, jedi, and mystical aliens. It didn’t matter if she silenced them, or defeat them, because their pained cries coalesced into a horrific choir that would forever play in her mind like echoes of their existence.

_ And what a horrid orchestra it was, _she thought.

But in the end, they were dead and she was not. They remained remnants, fragments, and shadows of what they once were. Barely were they sentient. Their strength was all she needed and she was made for it, for she held within her a rare pull among ghosts and her body was reshaped on a molecular level. This reshaping was done by an ancient machine she freed from its Rakatan masters, of whom were later killed. She was improved upon even further by the very same machine when it became an unrestrained and seemingly limitless powerhouse, but after that it didn't appear again. 

_ Where had it gone,_ she wondered. _ Was it still on Belsavis? _

Immortality didn’t seem like a far-fetched dream.

As a result of her hunger for power, her augmented body had become a host to a great number of ghosts, each one more powerful than the last, but every last one barely quenching her ever-growing thirst. 

And whenever she wielded their strength, whenever she exercised their power, she wondered if she was as much of a monster than the Emperor ever was. He had consumed planets, killed people by the trillions, and committed countless atrocities, while she only subjugated and imprisoned beings, but they could never be free unless she died—and she planned on never dying. What she consumed stayed, and they stayed, tortured and forgotten. She was too far down this path to stop though. They were dead anyways—she reasoned—pieces of what they once were in life, and they had become a vital part of her... but she knew that they ultimately weren’t her. A mental asylum hid behind the protective gates of her mind and her body was a vessel of tortured spirits. Although they came with the knowledge of lost history and ages, she couldn’t stand reaching out to the insane wraiths. Most if not all of them hated her and would attack if given the chance.

She was powerful in the Force in her own right, but not by much. She relied on dead ghosts too much and was without a doubt not a match for most powerful Force users without them. It didn’t matter how many ghosts she consumed. They were separate entities with their own wills and goals, and whether or not they were whole didn’t matter. The stronger they were the harder it was to use their power. They weren’t her. She had wrested their powers away from them, but she hadn’t earned them and she couldn't bare that fact anymore. She wanted to cultivate herself, strengthen herself, and it hurt her pride that she relied on this sapping ability. Absorbing dead spirits didn't matter to her. She called upon their power, but she didn’t own it. Even if no one knew it she was a hypocrite in labeling Vitiate a monster, because by certain definitions and categories, they were one and the same. He killed people. She enslaved their lingering ghosts.

Finally, and most importantly, it remained a single point of vulnerability. After Thanaton’s death, and as far as she knew, she was the only one in the entire galaxy who could commune with the dead, but she didn’t know everything. If for any reason her ghosts could be taken advantage of by adversaries through some mystical arts or rituals, she could be left completely vulnerable. The galaxy was a big place so who was to say that couldn’t happen?

Because of these multiple conclusions, she left, disappearing from the galactic charts. She left everything she had behind—love, title, connections, and friends—all in a bid for eternal power. No one knew what had happened to her. 

Darth Occlus had left and disappeared just as many others had,

a powerful figure that had helped shape the galaxy,

for better or worse,

only to resurface again generations later..


	2. Chapter 1

21 ATC 

In an ancient and dusty room, filled with moving contraptions and lit consoles, a hooded and masked figure in white and grey paced back and forth in front of a rakatan hologram in mid-conversation. Flowing strips of what was once a cloak trailed behind them.

"Immortality?” the hologram voiced curiously. “Is this truly what you seek?" Her transparent rakatan visage betrayed no emotion. 

The figure moving before her spoke in a posh, sith accent, her voice modulated through the ornate mask she wore, "Yes. Yes, that's what I desire."

The machine was quiet for a moment, calculating her next choice of words. "My creators once had that same desire, before I was made."

The woman, intrigued, slowed her pace and tilted her head towards the hologram. "And?" she said.

"They are dead. I am saying that there is no way to fulfill this desire," the hologram replied.

The woman clicked her tongue in disappointment and quit her pacing to take a threatening stance. "You owe me a debt, machine; you will find a way." Her mask did nothing to disguise her impatience.

"The time needed to calculate such a process is immeasurable. It is impossible," the AI said promptly.

She stomped her greaved boot down aggressively on the metal floor, causing a resounding clang. "Cursed machine! Find a way!"

The hologram gave her a blank stare for a full minute before finally, she said, "Step inside the chamber."

The woman stood her ground, hand cautiously and slowly moving to her saber. "Why?" she asked.

"This is the solution I have found to be best," the machine said pragmatically. "It will take time for me to collect the knowledge and power needed to sustain your body for eternity." She paused dramatically. "So you shall be put into stasis until I find the solution."

"That's your plan? 'Mother'? Your solution? To trap me for all eternity,” the woman spat.

"No. That is not my intention, Darth Occlus. What reason would I have?"

The former Dark Lord remained standing where she was, staring at the unblinking hologram, and time seemed to freeze. It was a standoff between the two: one once known as a Dark Lord of the Sith, Head of the Sphere of Ancient Knowledge; the other, a machine created to save a dying race.

In the end the masked organic submitted, waving her hand dismissively. "I have nothing to lose. Do what you will."

The hologram nodded. “Then we shall proceed. Enter the chamber.”

The former sith moved swiftly on that order, unable to bear waiting any longer. Her every step was dauntless and full of a confidence she sharpened over years of experience and strife. Although short and lithe, her armor's bulk more than made up for her presence. The pauldrons compensated for her narrow shoulders and her polished thigh and chest plates reflected off every glint of light. Her mask, although unremarkable at first glance, instilled a curiosity in others. Rarely did she ever remove it.

Once, long ago when she was a member of the Dark Council, her armor was darker, dyed black and lavender, and her curved lightsaber thrummed with a deep red energy. But over time, her equipment’s palette gradually shifted to the white and grey it was now. Some said it was the ghosts she communed with, others, a supernatural change from some of her utterly un-sith-like attributes. Even the color of her lightsaber had changed, opting for a more purple color. But despite all these theories, it was most likely that the dyes simply faded over time and her lightsaber's crystal conformed to her affinity with lightning.

“One more thing,” the woman said, stopping a step before entering the cylinder container.

“Yes?”

“Don’t ever call me Darth Occlus again.”

The Mother Machine said nothing in response as Irene entered the chamber. Inside the small room it was dark, but somewhat spacious. Lights blinked in the ceiling and dotted the walls. At the center sat a small pod that held a metal bed at a slanted angle, its physical mold somewhat conformed to her shape. The doors shut as soon as she turned around to lay on it and all was dark besides the few remaining fluorescent lights inside. The air she breathed was stale and without scent, but the conditions were overall fine.

"Initiating stasis,” the Mother’s voice echoed inside.

Irene calmed her nerves as a soothing cold came to envelop her body and the scents of multiple chemical compounds assaulted her nose.

"Calculating…" said the machine, her hologram still active at the consoles, staring at the chamber in stasis. "Calculating…"

Before Irene knew it, everything went dark,

and then she woke up

**Author's Note:**

> I’m wondering if she should be the Outlander or not. Once I reach an answer I’ll start writing again. This will include Ziost though, definitely, whether or not I include KOTFE/KOTET. She’ll also definitely be a Gray sith—inspired by Revan of course.


End file.
